


On The Job

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:51:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon talks to Blair about his on-the-job performance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The Job

## On The Job

#### by reetchick

Author's website: [http://www.livejournal.com/users/reetchick/ ](http://www.livejournal.com/users/reetchick/)  
Not my characters; this never happened.  
Thanks to Rhiannon, Alee, and Anne for beta duty.  
Written as a response to the "Isn't It Iconic" challenge. Please go here - http://www.livejournal.com/users/reetchick/108140.html -- if you'd like to see the pic which inspired this piece.   
  


* * *

My back cracked as I stood up - better view of the door that way. "Think he'll say something?" 

Blair lifted an eyebrow at me. "Oh, yeah." 

"What do you think he's going to say?" Christ. _I_ was uptight, and Blair was the one who'd been... 

He blew out a worried breath. "I don't want to think about it." 

We pushed some papers around, doing our best to pretend we weren't waiting for Simon. When the elevator pinged its way onto the seventh floor, our heads whirled around like we'd been trained by Pavlov himself. 

Things weren't looking good. 

For his part, Simon didn't so much as pause; he simply pointed at Blair and barked "in my office. Now." 

We rose - grim to the end - and followed him. Simon stopped on a dime and gestured back towards my desk. "Ellison," he intoned, "wait over there." 

Blair was close on his heels, near enough to hear Simon mutter, "It's not like you won't hear every damn word anyway. Besides, I need a cigar to have this conversation." 

With a last look back, Blair settled his shoulders and marched on with all the joie de vivre of a man on his way to the gallows. 

* * *

I watched one large hand settle on Blair's shoulder as the captain suggested he take a seat. 

He took his cigar case out of the inner pocket of his jacket, perusing his choices before selecting one of those big, smelly monstrosities. I hoped Blair would refrain from his usual commentary on the health risks - although, frankly, it wasn't _Simon's_ health I was concerned with right then. 

"Detective," he began pleasantly. Oh, shit. 

"Sir?" Blair schooled his features into a look he probably thought was "innocent curiosity." Curiosity, I'd buy. Innocent - well. 

"Do you think," he boomed, "I was made captain of Major Crimes for my stunning good looks?" 

A lengthy pause - as lengthy as any pause is likely to be around my partner. "No, Simon, I mean, Sir, of course not. Not that you aren't an attractive guy, though-" 

"Sandburg!" He glared down at Blair. "All I'm looking for is a 'yes, sir,' detective." 

You'd think the kid would know when to shut up by now. "Yes, sir." 

"Better," he growled. "As I was saying - I didn't make captain for no reason. If I do say so myself, I was a pretty damned fine detective in my time." 

Sandburg opened his mouth to reply, but snapped it shut when he noticed the look in Simon's eye. Jesus. And here I thought Simon was glaring _before_. 

Simon exhaled deeply before sinking into his chair. "Look, Blair," he said quietly. "What I'm saying here is that I'm not stupid, and I'm not blind, and I was - am - a detective." 

Blair looked up at him, his confusion evident. 

"I already knew." 

* * *

He already knew? 

The words were still hanging in the air as I shoved past the desk on my way to Blair's side. 

I hadn't covered more than three steps when I heard Simon's measured words. "Ellison. Turn yourself around and park it. This conversation is between myself and your partner." 

He wasn't so much as facing in my direction. Damn, he's good. 

Then again, I might be a little predictable where Blair's concerned. 

* * *

Simon looked down at the smoldering end of his cigar. We all know that he knows they're lousy for him, but hell. Even I can admit a guy might need a good smoke now and again when he has to deal with Sandburg every day. 

And, yeah. With me. 

"Look," Simon said flatly. "Neither one of you has told me, so I don't officially know anything." 

The look on Sandburg's face seemed to take Simon by surprise. Blair wasn't arguing, he wasn't thanking him, he wasn't apologizing. He wasn't saying anything at all. 

Come to think of it, maybe _that_ was what surprised him. 

* * *

I allowed myself one smirk as Blair returned to the desk. "So. Everything's okay, then," I said. 

Blair plunked down in his chair, spinning to level me with a look that was somehow a mixture of relief, irritation, love, disbelief and guilt. "Yeah," he growled, "no thanks to you." 

I bit my lip to hide my grin, causing Blair to lean over and smack me firmly in the bicep. "That," he hissed even more quietly, "was _entirely_ too close. From now on, I don't care _how_ many nights you've been out on stakeout - no more 'emergency blowjobs' in the men's room for you, buster." 

* * *

End On The Job by reetchick: daga8922@cox.net  
Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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